


Hearthfire

by IShouldBeWriting



Category: Singularity North
Genre: Afghanistan, Canon Compliant, Gen, Military Working Dogs, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBeWriting/pseuds/IShouldBeWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is another in the series of character sketches I've been working on.  This one features Lance Corporal Davis Messinger, just before his first meeting with Captain Fiona Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearthfire

Night was darker out here than in the city. It reminded Davis of the Lancaster farm his grandparents had when he was growing up. Only difference being, out here, the darkness had a nasty habit of reaching out with hungry teeth, claiming men from his unit for its own, and not returning them.

They’d been working their way north, following rumors of a new training camp somewhere up in the hills. After the third trooper they lost to an uncannily placed roadside device, they’d stopped traveling at night and called for an EOD expert to be sent in. Something about the pattern of these bombs didn’t feel right, was too clever, and so they’d found a spot to wait, hoping the EOD would at least be able to keep them all alive.

A sound in the darkness, twenty feet behind him and too his right, and Davis did his best to keep breathing normally and not flinch at the noise of claws scratching on stone.

“He’s gone crazy, sergeant, we should just put him down,” muttered one of the men around the fire.

Looking up at Davis, the sergeant gave a grimace.

The dog had been following them for ten days now, ever since the first bomb killed his handler. But he wouldn’t let any of the men close enough to catch him, close enough to treat the festering wound on his hip that was causing him to limp more and more each day.

Keeping his gestures slow and casual, Davis picked a bit of food off his plate and tossed it backward over his shoulder. He smiled tightly at the sergeant when he heard the rush of paws and snap of teeth. The dog might not trust them right now, but hunger at least kept him following in their footsteps. Plucking another tidbit off his dinner, he set it down on the ground right behind him.

“One of these days that mutt’s going to bite your ass instead of the food, Messinger.”

Davis didn’t bother to reply, sitting stock still as he heard the dog creep closer. Another three steps and suddenly the animal’s snout brushed across his back as it snatched up the food he’d offered. Exhaling sharply, Davis stood and took his plate out into the darkness, leaving it a dozen yards from their camp. He’d wash it in the morning once the dog had eaten it’s fill.

Grey dawn woke him the next morning and for a moment, Davis forgot to breath. laying against his hip curled into the warmth of his body, the dog looked up at him with lambent sorrowful eyes.

“How’s ‘bout we both survive this one, eh, Osiris? Least till the EOD gets here.” He whispered.

The dog - Osiris his previous handler had named him - stretched his head out till it’s muzzle was resting in the palm of Davis’ hand.


End file.
